Writing what is on my mind and open for comments

It couldn’t get worse?

This weeks writing prompts from Mama Kat’s were interesting and a few gave me ideas but my choice for this was “it couldn’t get any worse”. Before I start on my story let me just say that before this happened I would ask myself that question; afterwords you could not pay enough to even think it!

Somewhere in the mid 80’s I stumbled into line of work that frankly today I think you have to be NUTS to get into voluntarily – property management. What started off as a part-time job I was doing as a favor for the man I was living with quickly and abruptly became full time. The way events unfolded I should have know these people could not be trusted. But I was young and not too savvy. I became the resident manager for two apartment complexes. For those not familiar with this industry a resident manager MUST live on site and a property manager does not (in most cases). Since we already lived there it was no big deal except the fact in order to keep the job I had to sign a new lease stating that if I quit or was let go I had 30 days to vacate the premises. I know, I know, your thinking why on earth? but at the time I needed the job. Hind sight tells me that they knew that fact and capitalized on their knowledge.

FYI – it is not a good idea for family to work together as a general rule. With this job I became the boss of my boyfriend. That went well for about a week which is the first time I said no to something he wanted at work. It went downhill from there. I had anticipated that and figured this was the worst that could happen; I was wrong. He was very macho and very Italian so he did not take that well and I started to see a side to him I never knew existed. But work was work and home was separate and I could deal with that part, again I was wrong. He didn’t share my philosophy of work stays at work and home life got harduncomfortable difficult. One of us will surely find other work I thought, nope, didn’t happen. Okay, so things couldn’t get worse, wright? wrong again.

As I was forced to do evictions on not only the bad people doing illegal things I also had to fire a house keeper which meant she had to move. Of course she made it hard by making me go through the courts and putting her out. I thought that situation could not get worse and was wrong again. She was there the day the Deputy’s showed up with her three children! I knew those kids so well and felt just sick about them having to go through this and angry that their mother would do this to them! But out they went. And all this happened on December 7th! Tell me my luck isn’t bad. But those 7 evictions were the last of the lot and things were looking up for the property and its residents. Things were bound to get better. Guess again.

For the end of the year we did inventory and found a lot of things missing. After weeks of investigations and a few stake outs; yes that’s right I put my security experience to work; I found the thief. Right about now you are thinking great! Well, put that back in the drawer because the thief was the man I lived with! Not wanting to make things worse I convinced my employers and owners of the property to give him a chance to just replace the items and nothing more would be said or done. There, crises averted – nope, he denied doing it even though one of the pieces of equipment was found in our home hidden away in a place he thought I would never go. A second and third chance was given with the same results. I was told to have him arrested for grand larceny! Surely it could not get worse than having the man you share your life with taken away in handcuffs right before your eyes. Nope, try again – having to explain to his 11 year old son why. Not quite the end yet.

Three days later the threatening phone calls started, cherry bombs set off at the bedroom window and broken windows at home. Did I mention the dead birds at the front door or flaming bags of poop? Needles to say I started spinning into a bit of a depression, had trouble eating, sleeping and the like but for sure it could not get worse. O-contrare my friends, three weeks after having him locked up I was let go by the company and had to move myself! And that my friends is why I never say “It can’t get any worse”.